Bleeding Flowers (A Bishop Romance)
by N.W.Wolfride
Summary: [Based on Skyrim Romance Mod] A mistrustful ranger of legend. A beautiful Dragonborn virgin. After taming his trust, how far will she go to keep him from harm's way, when he would charge a barbarian horde to keep even one stray arrow from her direction? Fluff, smut, angst, a bit of humor, and some twists. This one is for the ladies.
1. Chapter 1

Rated M but not pure smut, female character left nameless (so you can use your imagination), story begins in the earlier days of meeting Bishop. I do not own Bishop, and he'll be quick to tell you so.

 _Even the circling wolf sleeps at last._

I watched Bishop lay before me, bare chested, where a vibrant bed of tender grasses and spring flora lended a surprisingly soft bed. Below, the earth was warm. A volcanic stream ran beneath the light soil, tenderizing the young grasses, filling the air with rich aroma. I ran my hands along the plush fallen seeds of tundra cotton, and listened to the world in its fading light.

A chorus of bachelor birds sang to the resounding call of their season's potential mate. Just out of arm's length, wispy curvatures of grass encircled us, whispering. Their height was enough to wall out the outside world, away from bandits, the roving beasts... responsibility.

The ranger's chest rose and fell evenly in a motion that was calming just to watch. His typically knitted brows were now relaxed, and the urge to reach out and stroke his face was becoming difficult to ignore.

What a rare sight. The bold, mighty hunter vulnerable to whatever found him. Well, whatever _got passed me._ That thought brought a smile. _"If you want a piece of her, you'll have to get through me!"_ When he first roared that to an onslaught of charging bandits, it almost caused me to choke in shock. Did he know what he said? Obviously if he did, he didn't care. The furiosity in which he rend through the attackers, after they had just about done the same to each other just hours ago, was awing. Savage, but loyal. All of the delicate rhythms of courtship, all of the bards' and birds' songs, were shadowed under the intensity of his dance in blood, undeniably fierce.

He knew what he was doing, and that failure meant death. A shiver rolled down my spine just to recall.

Before that instance, we'd been bickering about the stupidest little things. He was insufferable, but mentally challenging; I could get the better of him two steps ahead, and then he'd catch my tongue and end the conversation in a way I'd never anticipated.

 _He did care._ But was impossible to find.

Whenever this man slept, it were as though he fell off the face of the world. Looking around only brought the sound of wind, the occasional fox. The hunter hid himself very well, just tacking another point onto mistrust. Yet, whenever she lay down; be it on a bedroll, between two rocks in the wilderness, an inn, he was always a formidably looming figure, keeping avid watch. Every time he vanished, he assured I was no challenge to find again- as if I went far without him. A tracker, indeed. Little had I known he would be tracking me.

This was no accident. If he was laying here, so close I could reach out and touch him, it was because he wanted me to. So slowly, my hand reached out, stopping just short of his cheek, quivering with hesitation. I could only imagine what sarcastic thing he'd pop out with if he woke up to that, and Gods knew if he'd ever try this again.

I drew away.

Another yawn was straining the back of my throat, demanding to be released. I was already in a paper thin robe, allowing the freshly cleaned gear to dry out. Between his slow breaths and the perfect beauty of deepening twilight, fatigue weighed my body down toward the beckoning bed of grass.

This indented haven in the glade was an oval, with room just barely enough for one more- right next to him. I stole another look at the peaceful version of Bishop, engraving the almost innocent image to memory, and moved ever so slowly toward his side.

His radiant heat hit me the moment my hand pressed down to guide my move. It must have taken me an eon to shift from sitting, to hold back every hair on my head from so much as brushing his skin. I held my breath, summoning every stealth lesson I'd ever payed attention to as I reclined gracefully onto my back next to him.

I immediately regretted that decision.

"Ah-!" I yelped out, sharp honey eyes boring into mine a breath away. A dull pressure tightened my wrists, holding them firm, and a solid heat suddenly settled heavy upon my stomach.

"What in THE HELL do you think you're doing?" Bishop didn't ask for answers, he demanded them. Eye to eye, all I could see was that liquid gold, shimmering like a poised blade.

"B-B-Bishop.." The initial trained reflex that drew my muscles taught went slack, confusion lining my delicate features. The weight on my wrists moved away equally as quick, but he wasn't going to let me up so soon.

"Is my name, princess. Did you forget how to use your tongue?"

I frowned at him deliberately. "What are YOU doing?" I glowered back in disapproval, but the intensity of his gaze, its unpredictability, made me wary.

He didn't answer with words. I felt my face go flush with color, heart skipping a beat as his hands patted down the thin fabric of my robe. The feminine cloth offered so little in the way of protection, that he might as well have been touching me naked. Oh, how I had misjudged that purchase when the lady was hastily pushing out clearance items to pack up and move to a place without dragons. The pastel grey 'comfort garment' was almost free.

It was but a second before his brief frisk over my wriggling form halted over a dagger strapped to my upper arm under the long sleeve, within reach through the collar of my robe. My eyes widened as I saw the intent contemplative look on his face, that he may just reach in and fetch it. "Don't even think about it!"

Still, I regarded him sorely. Did he REALLY think I was going to stab him while he slept? Rob him of his share of septims collected through their shared bounties? Bishop.. How could you ever think that? He should have known better. If she was going to back stab him, she would have by now- they both knew that, didn't they?

The hurt and surprised, somewhat pained look in my face must have convinced him. As soon as he had pounced, he was now laying back on his side, eyes dark, regarding me with a stoic silence.

"Did you really think I'd hurt you?"

"A man can't be too sure." He reached to claim my hand, fingers light and careful as he turned over my palm. I let him, still a little upset and confused.

"Did I hurt you..?" His voice sounded in a way it never had before, quiet and low. He gingerly inspected, looking for any marks, and I couldn't help noticing his every movement.

"No.. I'm fine, but what was that about?" Whatever irritation I had faded with him returning to a more relaxed form, and for once, there might be answers.

Silence. He put my hands back down and I searched him. His jaw had set, but his gaze was sweeping the tips of the grass, as if seeing something within them that was invisible to anyone else. "I'm not used to..this. You were moving so slow that I thought you were going to jump me."

"You were awake?" I blinked.

"With the way you were stomping the grass like a she bear? How could I not be."

My brow twitched. "I was _tired_ , hunter. There isn't anywhere else to go." I decided to end this before he got out of hand. "Now, are you going to flap your yap all night, or will you let us sleep?" Us. The words had just rushed out so fast.

I knew he preferred traveling at night in these parts, and that the only reason he didn't was out of bending to my own preference.

"What are you wearing..?"

My breaths came measured as we resettled, it wasn't like me to sleep flat on my back and in rolling toward my side, it put us closer than we ever had been short of fleeting moments that felt like fire. Sitting this close to the fire had to be a bad idea, even for a mage.

"The shop lady called it a 'comfort robe.'"

"Is the knife part of that comfort?"

I could feel him leaning closer, his eye level somewhat above mine, causing me to look ever slightly upward. "A woman can never be too careful." I mocked, watching his jaw turn. Was he now appalled that I would think he would hurt ME? Would I be in this silly little nightgown if I questioned that? "It's just a measure of safety, like laying close by you. For animals or something."

It could have just been me, but his chest may have puffed a bit. "You feel safe. Laying by me."

"Yes." The word came flat, did we HAVE to play these stupid games?

"Well, in that case.."

I gasped, his hand so intrusively fetched into my robe through the color. His hand grazed my collar bone, over my shoulder, and a metallic 'shink' sounded in my ear as he drew the only weapon I still had on me. It landed somewhere in the grass, and as I turned to try to pinpoint where, I caught his amused smirk when I glanced back.

"What purpose does that serve?"

"You don't need it." The depths of his eyes wouldn't let me escape. I felt his chest pull closer, and the air around me warmed.

"I could just shout.. What is a little dagger going to do to you?"

"It's not that.." There was that hard, somewhat distant look again.

"Then what is it?" I pressed him. Enough, enough with the games Bishop.

"I don't sleep well with others." A rugged breath trailed the end of the sentence. "I've been known to wake up, in the dead of night. The littlest thing sets me off."

The image of him throwing someone down, holding a blade to their throat came to mind. Just because they'd been too close when he woke up. I was beginning to forge together the pieces. How he slipped off into the woods and vanished to take a midday nap, staying up all night, saying nothing about it and looking at me like **I** was the weirdo.

Very tentatively, my hand reached out, and his eyes followed the hesitant motion, but he said nothing. Finally, my fingertips grazed the stubble of his shadowed face, thumb brushing below his lip as I tried to more confidently settle my hand on his handsome face. "You won't hurt me." I reassured him, locked dead on his eyes, but gentle.

His brows dipped, eyes also veiled into that shadow. His hand trailed down my arm, sliding back the sleeve of the robe, then passing over it before he jerked the touch away. "Of course I wouldn't. I never sleep anywhere near you."

Annoyance pushed away any tease of his moving my clothing. "Just..Try it." I coaxed. "Karnwyr never bothers you, right?"

His deadpan eyes were enough of an answer.

"So it will be like Karnwyr! You'll just get used to me."

"You're comparing yourself to a bitch?"

My bottom lip fell a bit. Oh, it was so, so temping to smack him sometimes, even now- playfully, but under the circumstances, that wasn't an option.

"A-roo." I spoke the words as flat as his gaze. He melted into a hearty laughter, to which I actually smiled and laughed along. The sound fell silent as his veined arm encircled the small of my back like a band of dwarvian steel, holding me flush against his body. My breath came slow, lids fluttering a second as I gathered my barrings to look up at him. His heart hammered against my chest, and he watched me swallow.

"Fine. You can be my bitch." He sported a devilish grin.

So quickly, my temper flared, a pout forming as I was about to give him a piece of my mind. It only seemed to amuse him more, a warm light dancing in those autumn eyes.

I bit him. On the subject of dogs, not being able to hit him, on an impulse I sharply nipped a little spot on that bare broad chest of his, scented of pine and leather, taking in a mixture of fresh dew and salt. I heard him growl, and his muscles went taught under me. His hand cupped my face, and before I could offer a retort, his thumb was lightly grazing between my lips, as if daring me to do it again.

Surprise shown on my features, eyes flitting from his hand up to his face, were he looked to be torn between toying amusement and something challenging. I wasn't thinking. My mind had stopped. There was just my struggles at breath and his encapturing face. As if undecided about challenging that 'dare' with another nibble, or just moving away, the very tip of my tongue darted softly against the rough pad of his thumb in withdrawing from his caress.

He gave another growl like low groan, moving closer as I lay back down. Like a wolf, slowly stalking wounded prey, no rush, but always present. His hand slid again over the cloth of my robe, between my legs, and he used my thigh as leverage to turn my hips, picking me up slightly and positioning my rear toward him with relative ease.

I staggered out a gasp, somewhat alarmed. "Bi-Bishop..!" He kept my leg somewhat parted, until I felt him fit tightly to my back, groin snug into the heat between my legs. His hand finally moved, sliding up over the curve of my hip, to rest flat on my stomach, tucking me as close as possible.

"So you like taking it like a wolf, huh?"

"I-I've never taken it at all!" There was little time to think of words, completely cloaked in his scent, his heat, the obvious swell presented between my legs, hidden between his leather and my sheer robe, but impossible not to notice. He didn't grind, just pressed, letting me feel the solidness nestled at my womanhood.

"What? You mean after the hundred men circling at your feet to whimper at your every beck and whim, you're still a virgin?"

My ears were hot. "Yes.. I've..never been deflowered." And would have no business telling him that, if not for the presence weighted on her tailbone, an aura of pure masculinity.

His breath exhaled across my ear, and the hand on my belly lightened, losing its intent.

I felt woozy, even laying down, our hearts pounding together, his breath on the nape of my neck. I felt his lips press to my skin, my hair brushed aside with his nose to where his breath had fallen, a small passing gesture just as much as the flick of my tongue had been.

He wasn't going to try anything? I found it hard to relax with him so close, he left his hips where they were, and the hyper awareness of every subtle shift and flex drove me crazy. My hand circled his arm weakly, mind racing to try and comprehend that they were really here. One moment they were fighting like children, the next, about to honor the call of spring.

But I couldn't, I was the Dragonborn. Having him relentlessly tackle her battles for her, never hesitating to come before harm's way if it kept her from an extra arrow, could lead to blood on her head that she just could live with. His.

If she gave herself to anyone, it might just be this crass hard headed ranger, the man who made her run with the wind and perch high at the peeks, bow in hand to embrace the living wilds together. If she ever accidentally became heavy with a child, like the tavern wenches usually did- and for her- that was a fate worse than death, his seed was of a strong tenacious survivor. A man worthy to sire an heir by the Dragonborn.

I was sure, if that ever happened, he would vanish into the wind to never be seen, and that tender little babe would breath life in a world at the throat of war. A war I brought right to the doorstep every day- hell, there wasn't even a home TO go back to right now. Would Lydia make a good nanny?

..

...

No, probably not.

But it wasn't as though I'd never fantasized about capturing the eye of a smoking stud, few as they came in this land of withered farmers and the recruiters taking any young male of physical value. A fleeting, unrealistic fantasy to stoke the fire on a cold night in a snug bedroll.

At least Bishop fought for no man but himself.

I lay in silence, feeling the temporary time our souls were close enough to meet, to touch and feel warm in this cruel strengthening world. He had gone alone all these years, survived by the maw of a cannibalizing wolf. Turning over, I allowed myself to dip my cheek into the crook of his shoulder, caught the gaze that was observing me with a fierce intensity.

"I'll never run a dagger through your heart, I have no reason to steal from you." My words were low, almost a whisper, rubbing my cheek on his muscled arm, trying to find a comfortable spot in the nuzzle.

His words were gritted lowly, like he was trying to compose himself together. "And I'll never turn you in for that bounty on your head..."

My half lidded eyes opened slowly. "The one for me being a vampire?" I half heartedly nipped at him again, grazing my little canines on his shoulder.

"What?"

I smirked, peering up to him. "You know, I'd always wondered if you were secretly a Lycan.. That would explain.. ..a lot of things."

"Are you really..a vampire?" His tone had risen, abandoning whatever thought had been tearing him up before.

"Noo." I almost groaned, could the man take a joke?

"Don't kid like that. I could believe it." His shoulder flexed, unnerved by the last 'bite.'

"And I could believe you're a werewolf."

"Ha!" He all but rolled his eyes, head sinking back.

"Hmn. .. . If I _were_ a vampire, would you turn me in?"

"If you're still as beautiful as you are now? No."

All of the excitement and today's trek was tiring, his warmth was comfort despite the roaming thoughts and how..close..he'd been. Just two tiny layers of fabric had separated him from doing what males were born to do.

But he had stopped.

She smiled, finding a comfortable place right up against his chest. The crickets had begun to replace the birds, a new song of nightlife as even the sun lay down to rest. "Goodnight Bishop..."

He grunted softly, squeezing me once. I already knew he'd be up keeping watch for a long while. "If you're a maiden, why did you ask me to come with you in the first place?"

I thought about my earlier decision, that if it were going to be anyone, it would be someone like him. "I trusted you."


	2. Chapter 2

**Bleeding Flowers Chapter 2**

 _In the hall of a priestess cries the wolf._

"Well, the way I see it, you can only do one of two things. You can relive the past every single day, or you can let it strengthen you and prepare you for what you'll face next. Fight against it, or wither." By the time I finished the words, I had forgotten the first half of them the moment they left my mouth. Pain seered my teeth to my tongue, weighty exhales clenched at the peek of my lungs.

"Like a flower in the desert.." A delicate, feminine voice spoke as her hands worked above the crimson dampness that was my busted arm. "Where's your cloudy friend?" Her voice was as sweet as the softest sky, hair so pale it was almost shaded with dusky tints of ashen blue. I'd almost envy her, but the thickly robed pale skinned healer was too kind of a person to feel nasty toward. My friend, my former fellow student at the College of Winterhold.

And someone I didn't want Bishop to meet. She was too soft for his kind of company, and the things she would think about ME after that. "He's..-ah! He's.. I told him I would find my best healer, took our last horse, his..his was dropped from a high height. Let's.. Talk about the flowers." Wait, WERE they talking about flowers? No that had been a metaphor..

A rich harmonic aroma of snowberry cobbler and burnt herbal offerings filled the quaint rustic space, homey and modest. Well kept and inviting. Firelight and filtered windows kissed down a yellow seam, lighting the old cottage room with a soothing sense of charm. Everyone was out to class or prayer work, leaving the creaking halls barren.

"I admire your positivity.." Aruka said as she knitted together the thin sinews of my forearm. I was half watching in fascination, a distraction, secretly hoping to improve my own discipline of restoration. At the same time, it made me feel a disorienting phantom pain. It was hard to focus, but something about her voice was like stepping into the front door of a comforting home.

Aruka passively bowed her head, unphased with the view of my open body, dabbing the blood away with a silken hand, a natural born grace revealing the pink flesh below. That was intimacy, seeing the inside of your best friend without blinking. "All I mean, is that.. What happened to you, was gravely traumatic. I just think that.. You may.. Have difficulty when those memories strike back, by just burying them."

"I'm not burying them." I insisted. "My damned arm is proof of that! If I was covering my fate, do you think I would be throwing my life before dragons?" The harrowing image of remorseless, blazing eyes flared into mind, the last living seconds of a house sized beast burning alive, its sword like teeth locked around my thin arm. _If I shall die, you will burn with me._

The horrific sound the ranger behind me made as the arrow that pierced the dragon's eye was the snare that kept me bound to the erupting heat. The killing blow that struck the moment the dragon had seized me. I had no choice but to rip myself free to avoid burning alive, down some tonics to temporarily put the damage at bay, and come to the first person I could think of who could erase the damage and give me peace of mind.

The dragon had engulfed just behind me, an inferno with a voice that roared against the wind. That soul scorched into my core, sinking in with liquid fire. Or, it could have been the physical pain, it was hard to tell, but impossible to ignore that bitter taste of vengeance screaming in the air around me.

"We're almost done." Aruka brought me back home again. "There's been talk, you know."

"Of.." One of the exhales forced through my teeth, feeling the waves of energy pulse on my dampening pain.

"Little birds talking to proud bumble bees."

My lips turned in a frown. She wanted to talk about this NOW? "I have a companion." I stated simply.

"Mmmm-hmmmmmn. One who would risk their life to take on a dragon with you. People want to know who he is."

"Bishop. His name.." A smaller breath came. "His name is Bishop." My answer came automatic, I hid nothing from my friend.

Aruka smiled, and the room may have lit around the pastel pink of her lips. She had the kind of ambient warmth that could make a draugr smile. "Bishop? That's a strong name. Tell me what you think of this Bishop."

What did I think of him? That I kept reliving the moments he lay down nearby when I couldn't keep going on for the night, that he now chose a place in sight. Reimagining closing the distance between us, in order to force my mind to drop the weight so heavy on my thoughts by day dreaming about rising from my bedroll to approach his. I still blushed hotly thinking about his solid swell pressed between my legs, and the war raging in his fierce gaze when I turned around.

The look of disgust shot toward the woman was only because I couldn't tell her no. "I.." Where could I even start? He wasn't just 'strong.' "He has the soul that could rival a dragon- and I'd know- with the tenacity of a feral wolf." A laugh managed to stagger out as I finished, "And of course, the typical drinking habits of any Nord."

"So in other words.." Aruka sat back, her long braid swaying over her shoulder in the process. "If you left him 100 miles behind, he'd be here within a day."

I peered over my shoulder just to make sure we were really alone. Did she know something she wasn't saying? Studying her, she lifted my arm gingerly to begin applying a cottony bandage scented in something sweet and earthy, that little smile at the corner of her lips revealed nothing. I didn't like that look.

"I'm certain I'll catch more hell than the dragon gave me when he catches up. He's the best tracker in Skyrim, I'm almost sure." Why was she looking up at me through her lashes like that? Was there something on my face? "What?"

"I've never heard you speak so openly about a man since that lad who kissed your hand in alteration class."

Memories of a scraggly little mage in robes came flashing back. I had no idea what I was thinking when fluttering little sweet words were enough to make my heart beat. "Yeah no, I doubt that guy would kiss my hand right now." My bloody fingers wiggled, and Aruka caught them in a damp rag, attempting to clean away the caked grime of former reptile entrails.

She wiped a spot clean, and then picked up my hand to kiss it chastely. "My beautiful, lovely, fair Dragonborn." I wriggled away with a scowl, but didn't dare flex my newly healed arm. "Will you have all my babies?"

The immediate sound that came out of me was nothing short of a squeal. My nose wrinkled as she broke into melodic laughter, letting my hand go free. It felt SO good to ground myself back to a semi normal life, to meet a friend of the past. How long it had been, and it was like we'd never been apart.

"He's..not like that at all."

Her brows dipped into confusion. "Oh? Is he.."

I read her expression, and my eyes widened. Gay? "No! Gods no. All the women in every tavern we've been in are on his butt." We shared another round of girlish laughter.

I had been making walls. Walls of grass, of city stones, reservations, strongholds within me to hold back the awful reality of what being Dragonborn meant. Anything to survive, and keep the harsh world out. But Aruka, she didn't see the Dragonborn, or prey in the wilderness, she just saw me. The blockade that surrounded us now, made of hand shaped wood and not Imperial stone, was the halls of my heart. And that had no end, and no beginning.

This is exactly what I needed. To just retouch with what mattered. Everyone could sing songs about the Dragonborn or claim they could best her in a fight to make themselves feel alright, but few would follow her into battle. Bishop did. Aruka would, but she couldn't fight at all. Destruction was _my_ forte. Restoration was hers.

"We're a good team.." Said about Bishop, or Aruka I wasn't sure. But I breathed a sigh, lifting my bandaged arm carefully to study it. The break was all healed up, covered for protection, but any jarring would resonate the feeling of the old wound. This would be tender for days..

"Wait.." Aruka got up, shuffling around the little cabin room connected to an outer hall of others. Priestesses in training lived here and attended to the sick and wounded. When she came back, she had in her small hands a slip of faded white velvet. Something glimmered, shining as she rewrapped the fold. "Here."

I took the velvet fabric, feeling something hard beneath it with many shapes. It was small, fairly light. As I tugged at the corner, she stopped me. "Don't open it right now.." There was a teasing look on her face, and I was confused. She reached, guiding my good hand to put the apparent gift in my pocket.

"It's cursed isn't it."

She looked like she was seriously giving it thought. "No.." There was so much insecurity in the word.

"No?" I repeated with definence.

"I mean.. I wouldn't say CURSED. You'll.. You'll understand when you're older."

I gave her an odd look. Woman, look at me. I have curves now, I'm old enough to 'understand better.' Still, her sense of subtle humor was contagious. Okay then..

A hand knitted throw had been laid on the floor for me to sit on, and as she stood above me, her robes swaying as she walked and turned about the room to stretch her legs, I watched.

"So." She turned to me, almost looking the tiniest bit mischievous. "Would you say that you may love him?"

My reply didn't come, lips drawn together tight. She patiently waited. Did I love Bishop? It's something I actually did shove away, trying not to think too hard about. All I knew for sure was one thing.

"I wouldn't want to see him get hurt.." It took some solemn honesty to admit, "I'm glad it was me and not him." My damaged arm was the elephant in the room, one I raised momentarily with shaky effort.

Aruka seemed to feel my shift and became serious. "You're lucky to have each other." Ever positive, it was all she said.

"I think I should just become a priestess." I half smirked to lighten the mood. "I don't know long I can do this. I can't find it in me to tell him to leave, but if I saw him go, I don't think I could fight anymore. Especially not a dragon..." And it wasn't because I entirely needed his help to take one down, as life saving as that potentially could be.

She saw the dilemma in my gaze, and moved to go sit down in a rickety old chair across the room. I waited for her words of wisdom, to somehow heal this all better, but she didn't. Not even a single word. It took a few moments, and she rushed out a question that seemed out of place. "Tell me about your favorite moment with Bishop."

What was with the questions about my personal life? It wasn't so much the question, it was how she said it so urgently, like it really made a difference to the moment. "Uh.. Well.." There were many instances to think of. Our bickering that lead into play, seeing the happiness on his face when he killed the bandits that trapped Karnwyr. "Watching him sleep." Of all things, that was the happiest, and it was hard to admit, so I looked down. "Next to me." My voice lowered, "His chest is strong and warm."

I looked toward Aruka, but she was looking away like a scolded dog, apparently the wall was more interesting than my childish simple words. Then I saw the presence in the room that hadn't been there before, the ranger's face torn between wild irritation and regarding me as if his eyes could move me to spill answers.

His voice was only the former. "Outside. Now."

From my spot on the floor, his eyes glowered down at me, steady. The same look as when he had an arrow notched, holding his breath. Sometimes I tried to get a glimpse of his face when he was intently focusing on a target, an expression so different than when he was focusing on me. Except now. His arms were locked over his chest, posture wide. Aruka was a little rabbit in the corner behind him, and she may as well have been invisible to Bishop.

"Do you want to do this in front of sick children and the homeless..?" It was a genuine question, for if they went outside, that is who would be watching. Long live the Dragonborn, she who gets yelled at in front of the needy.

"I can leave.." Aruka quietly offered from the corner.


	3. Chapter 3

Note: Dear readers, if you have not done so, AlassinSane has made Bishop's backstory into a series of 5 chapters. :) I would suggest reading them on a rainy night, by a fire with a mug of ale.

 **\- - - Chapter 3: Bishop's Viewpoint - - -**

 _What in the hells is that wench doing?_ For a little while, Bishop might have actually been asleep.

Earlier in the day, he'd scouted out a particular oval indentation in a field of wildflowers, and spent time sheering out some of the weeds, working their scent into the grassy bed in the process, flattening out a 'den.' "Remember this spot, Karnwyr."

Not far off, the half tame wolf had marked a long flat stone, and his head tipped sideways in recognition of his master's voice.

After taking one last glance at the handywork, and ensuring the location was secure, the tracker stealthed back into the woods and made sure to lose any trace of where they'd been. Their Ladyship would never know the difference.

" 'Aye." Dusk was starting to fall, and the woman always gave up perfectly good travel time to lay somewhere dangerous during the night. This time, he wouldn't have to worry about her poor choice of location. If only she had seen the bodies left from his area culling left by morning. One time she about tripped over a corpse, and he impatiently shrugged like it had been there the whole time. _"You're welcome."_

"What?" She was just finishing hanging up some glowing robe, stream washed, to dry out in a bush. They always hid their gear as to not draw attenion from any creature or person potentially passing by. She usually sucked at it.

He stood on a stone, arms crossed, one leg relaxed, looking down at her. "Come here. I found something." Nearby, the wolf barked twice, circling, then whining. His ears had gone flat, panting like a nervous dog.

"What's wrong with him?"

"Probably smells a bitch in heat." His impassive face didn't change at the unimpressed look she shot him.

"Then why doesn't he chase her down?"

For some reason, the comment made him quirk the corner of his lips into a half-smirk. "Not worth the effort."

"My fox was worth the effort..." He could hear her mumble just under her breath.

He kicked back in the indentation hidden in the tall grass, arms crossed behind his head, one knee raised. "What was that?" The sky was starting to bleed out of color, pure blues consumed into the red of the falling sun.

"Nothing. ..Bishop?" Her words were so naive, how she ever survived this long was a mystery. If he believed in the gods, he might think they had a sense of humor in selecting prophetic figures. He heard her footsteps circle around before her shadow finally slipped over him, where she stood shiluetted against the sunset. A goddess, if he ever did see one.

"Get in. Place 's clear."

Her face became perplexed. "In?" She was reguarding the well hid area like she'd never seen grass before.

"Yeeah." He said slowly as if she were hard of comprehending.

She huffed a sound of annoyance. "I'm going to finish cleaning your leather if you ever take it off. I'll join you later."

Wordlessly, he began unbuckling the straps on his chest piece. He could see her watching, and suddenly turning as if she really had something to do.

There wasn't any way he could get any rest near her, with her sitting there above him. His light dozing was broken the moment her presence arrived, with only the cricket song to keep them company. Too many uncertainties plagued his thoughts. There was just too much of a possibility that things could go wrong. His aggressive tendencies, the fact she didn't need him and kept him around anyway, yet didn't beg at his heels the way other women did. She wanted something. What did she want?

He made sure not to flinch in waking, paining himself to keep a light even breath, pretending survival depended on it. A hand was near to his face, hovering. Not being able to see her moving around, whatever thing that was taking her so long to do, was agony. Even the tip of a grass blade felt like the point of a knife on his stomach, and part of him was anxiously waiting to feel pain.

Finally after what feeled like forever, she was right next to him, dropped at his side. Compared to all else, it felt sudden, and he wouldn't let her get a chance to go further. In a split moment, he sprang, expertly pinning her into place to get a good look.

"What in THE HELL are you doing?" All of his doubt, forced to be hidden in the past minutes, came out uncontrolled. She stuttered his name in a way that made his heart plummet into his stomach, and a feeling that he regretted knowing- her resistence going slack under him- felt as if he could do anything and she'd allow him. Just staring with that confused doll face.

No weapons drawn, no magic in hand, no trove of bandits creeping up, a very sheer night dress he'd never seen her wear before. Shit. Releasing her wrists in a jerk, the dagger of being in the wrong has not settled into his stomach just yet.

Supicion remained of the too-revealing clothing. It wasn't like her. In a brisk motion, he patted his hands down her figure, but all he felt was the curves of her small stomach up to her chest. His heart leapt like a sabercat. He was beginning to like the change of clothes, they hid nothing, Until he found it, the telltale feeling of a dagger's hilt up her arm, near her shoulder.

Snapping to her face, about to grab for the hair-bristling weapon, he saw how flushed her cheeks had become from just touching her. If he took it, what was she going to do? Spit on him? He had a fleeting desire to watch her face change as his hands worked, but she had other ideas.

"Don't even think about it!" The deep look of betrayal was unsettling. Those beautiful eyes, contorted to such a clear message, twisted him all up inside in a way he'd never known. Never had he cared, everything with people was just business. One person getting what they wanted using another.

But this was different. For some reason, he was driven to keep this woman safe, compelled to, and she was looking at him the way his mother had looked at his father, one of his earliest memories still in tact.

 _Now how will I pay for you?_

Visions of his mother's last words to him still lingered at the outskirts of his mind, for the first time in a decade, spoken with his hands still red with the blood of his father. Women only wanted men to keep themselves fed, they used children to keep him around. An heir, an extra surname running around in exchange for a place to live. The daughters were traded for more things, the sons were there as badges of honor, expected to carry on titles.

"Did you really think I'd hurt you..?" She asked so taken back, low, sincere. This wasn't right, people didn't give you something for nothing.

That was the sharp tip that drove into his stomach. "A man can't be too sure."The wedged blade broke the knot in his chest, leaving him with nothing more than to flop over on his side and reassure himself that she was okay, to pick up her wrists and prove to himself that they weren't bruised, that her body wasn't red and crumpled up. "Did I hurt you..?" _Tell me I didn't hurt her._ His own mental words held a vicious tenor.

He moved extra slow in turning her palm, waiting for something to be broken, to not move the way it should. How could he live with himself? Had he really been spending his whole life running from his past? She was forcing him to question it all, that's why he needed her more than he wanted her.

"No.. I'm fine, but what was that about?" She had relaxed as if all was just perfect the moment he collapsed. He let her hands back down, to know where they were, less he do something regretful in his swamped thoughts.

"I'm not used to..this. You were moving so slow that I thought you were going to jump me." His eyes were fixed onto the wall of grass, leaving the entire world devoid of everything but her. Why her, of all people. The one who rushed headlong to her death whenever the opportunity arose, and for _other people._

"You were awake?" Huh, she had no idea. Her eyes blinked like a clueless doe.

"With the way you were stomping the grass like a she bear? How could I not be."

As predicted, she went straight to being too annoyed to press him further. "I was _tired_ , hunter. There isn't anywhere else to go." _Not with me around, there isn't._ "Now, are you going to flap your yap all night, or will you let us sleep?" Us.

 _Us._

When was the last time he slept body to body with someone? Before or after he reflexively stabbed non canine things that got too near to him in his sleep?

"What are you wearing..?" He changed the subject to avoid yet another thing his mind had to deal with. It looked like she had settled down, and deliberately rolled onto her side, facing him. He always noted she slept that way, curled up completely vulnerable, lips parted.

As she turned, it felt like she was coming into his territory, approaching the hunter in his domain, his den. It was hard to ignore the urge to match her, to lean a bit closer in turn.

"The shop lady called it a 'comfort robe.'" Ha, right. Eh, they had enough septims to throw at useless garments, but in his opinion, it was a good buy.

"Is the knife part of that comfort?" Just why would she keep it in such an easy access location if she didn't plan on using it. Especially when anything that could possibly get to them would be too large for her poor skill level to draw prick of blood with that butterknife. Was she trying to be him?

"A woman can never be too careful."

So she did feel it necessary in order to lay by him. It made his jaw lock, working an uneceesary level of rage. Not even for her, but at something. His dad? For being the kind of person she needed to defend from?

"It's just a measure of safety, like laying close by you. For animals or something." _Like laying close to me._ So easily, so instantly, he didn't know what to think anymore. She gave him anger, and took it away again with petty little words. Just words. A man shouldn't have to feel this way over words.

Still, he couldn't deny the relief. She claimed to see him as safety, and brought no weapon she knew how to use to the bed he'd made. He felt his defeated posture perk. "You feel safe. Laying by me." It came out a bit sarcastic.

"Yes," she said as flatly as Orc poetry.

"Well, in that case.." He heard her gasp the moment his hand dipped under the collar of her light gray robe, nimbly grazing between the silken fabric and her warm, heavenly soft skin. The sheath wasn't even clasped, allowing for the blade to slide out easily, where he promptly gave it a flick into the tall grass. Karnwyr could deal with finding it later, if ever. He strongly had his doubts about her ability to do any more than cut bread for him with it.

Her over reaction, like the gesture made a any differnece only employed him to smirk in amusement.

"What purpose does that serve?"

"You don't need it." All of the questions drilling his mind sharpened his eyes to a pointed depth. _I am not my father. I will be the only weapon you need. You don't need to protect yourself from me._ He pulled her against his chest without hesitation, and she felt so small against him.

"I could just shout.. What is a little dagger going to do to you?"

"It's not that.." His eyes hardened, thinking of what he'd done with a very similar dagger, to someone who may or may not have been a gold theif. Of wanting for her to belive he'd never lay a hand on her.

"Then what is it?"

"I don't sleep well with others." He let out a rumbled sort of sight, half stuck in his throat. Might as well tell her half of the story so she doesn't dig further. "I've been known to wake up, in the dead of night. Anything larger than a fox kit sets me off."

Her hand tentatively reached out, quivering. How it pissed him off, wanting her to just.. What, grab him? Something. But not stay at the sidelines like a scared little deer, making him feel like a wolf. But his eyes shown something differnt, not anger. He waited, watching her every fleeting twitch. When she finally touched him, it was softer than he expected, and worth waiting for. The thumb brushing his face was soothing, and shooed away all the imagined images of personal monsters bothering him. Maybe it was mage magic.

Then, she moved with more direction, settling her hand upon his stubbled face without hesitation.

"You won't hurt me." The way her beautiful eyes held an essence of the authority of a dragon in that insant, sure like a general giving the deciding command at war, but somehow held the gentle grace so rarely found in nature. Something he couldn't compare to. It was all he wanted to hear.

Like drawn to something mystical, entrapping and guiding his body, he stroked his hand down her arm with equal grace, dancing to a silent harmony only they could hear, trailing that robe down her arm to expose her flesh. He'd show her just how much he wouldn't dare harm her, give her pleasure she'd never felt from a male in her life.

Realizing the urge was that- an urge, he drew back before he found himself doing something that there was no control of. "Of course I wouldn't. I never sleep anywhere near you." _Throw her off the scent._

"Just..Try it," she coaxed, "Karnwyr never bothers you, right?"

Seriously? How was this anything like Karnwyr? He went deadpan. Wow, she gives, and she takes away.

"So it will be like Karnwyr! You'll just get used to me."

"You're comparing yourself to a bitch?"

It looked like she didn't know what to do with the words, that he'd cornered her to a stalemate, but she matched his sarcasm. "A-roo."

Just like that, all of his tension was gone. His grievences and ghosts went back to where they belonged- the past. He found himself laughing, and every breath shone a light on them to make them less scary, and eventually just vanish. They didn't matter right now. He wanted her close, right now, and wasted no time in wrapping an arm around her. Her skin was cool and it felt good, made more noticeable as she was pulled flush against his half naked body, just that joke of a fabric dividing them.

Her long lashes fluttered endearingly, her full lips parted in breaths like he was already inside her. It made his heart reach a tempo like a galloping stalion.

"Fine. You can be my bitch." He grinned devilishly. She could do whatever she wanted to him. As a spark of 'about to sass Bishop' flared up in her eyes, it only made him more enthralled.

And then she bit him. His whole body went tense, half in instictive anticipation of a confrontation, half suddenly aware of just how close her lips were to his flesh. He growled low, a wave of heat shooting to his groin. He took her face into hand before she could try it again and expect to get away with it, but he couldn't stop his thumb from lightly brushing between her lips, just daring her to do it again for him.

She looked spooked, but moved slow, and he felt the softest lick pass across the pad of his thumb, freezing him as she drew away. Like chasing prey, he couldn't help following, she wasn't going to get away when she teased an ran, just inviting him to come after.

Without another wasted moment, he slipped his hand under her leg and used it to flip her, guiding her rear against him. The way she staggered out his name, caught by the hunter, sent him into a trance. Another surge shot downward through his body, and he held her leg apart through the robe, keeping her open to him as he press his constricted swell against her soft warmth, so little between them that he could feel the heat through lether. Her leg settled, and even as his hand over the rise of her hip and down to her slender stomach, not about to let her get away, her legs shifted slightly, every motion rubbing against his constricted arousal.

With no space left between their bodies, pressed tight, he breathed across her necked, and rubmled into her ear. "So you like taking it like a wolf, huh?" Biting him, teasing, he'd have her from behind.

"I-I've never taken it at all!"

"What? You mean after the hundred men circling at your feet to whimper at your every beck and whim, you're still a virgin?" Was she serious right now? How could she look like that, and still be in tact? Was there something wrong with her?

"Yes.. I've..never been deflowered."

He let out a long sigh, loosening the intent of his hand on her stomach, allowing it to go slack. Still, she didn't move, as if still caught, and he felt himself throb against the damned leather. It made his breaths grow heavy. Her hand had settled on the arm still draped over her, lightly, not fighting or forcing him off. Unspoken agreement. He nudged her hair aside and redirected his focus into a parting kiss brushed at the side of her neck.

If it had been any other time in his life, would he have stopped? Was it only because his father's ghost still haunted him, or was there more? He could barely think about the past with such a perfect body and the soul of a draggon practically nude against him. She wasn't budging, and his expression darkened, fighting the urge and the demons.

She moved, finally, but only enough to roll over. He reguarded her with the same eyes, but hers were nothing like his, honest and soft. Her cheek nuzzled on his arm, voice quiet and private, meant only for him, "I'll never run a dagger through your heart, I have no reason to steal from you."

He could barely speak, barely force himself into control. But her words had driven home something powerful, holding a blade flush against the throat of his wicked demon. "And I'll never turn you in for that bounty on your head..." Any smile now would just be grim.

Her eyes opened slowly as if she was coming to realize something, and it made him more aware of their conversation. "The one for me being a vampire?" She went to bite him again, and he about jumped.

"What?"

She smirked with abandon. "You know, I'd always wondered if you were secretly a Lycan.. That would explain.. ..a lot of things."

Was she mad? "Are you really..a vampire?" She was his demon now, great.

"Noo." The start of a groan could be heard, but damn was she believeable.

"Don't kid like that. I could believe it." That last bite had been unnerving; he was still flexing his shoulder against the feeling of her grazing tooth.

"And I could believe you're a werewolf."

"Ha!" Yeah, if he was, he wasn't going to tell her. His eyes rolled for good measure.

"Hmn. .. . If I _were_ a vampire, would you turn me in?"

"If you're still as beautiful as you are now? No." It didn't really matter if he would or not, if she wasn't serious, so he might as well just keep her happy. It was an act of immediate karma, for the smile on her face made him feel light, and she rest her head against his chest, a small weight against him of warmth and tender softness. The same little body that could tear apart a dragon if pissed off enough.

She smelled like no other person he'd meant, like an exotic spice in a bathhouse, a place few people would ever had let him into even if he wanted to go.

"Goodnight Bishop..."

He grunted, not wanting the night to end so soon, but exhausted. They were close, it was a victory, why press? But one thing, he had to know.

"If you're a maiden, why did you ask me to come with you in the first place?"

"I trusted you." She replied easily, straight forward, without a moment to think. He lay awake a long time thinking about her words, listening to her deepening breaths and how evenly they fell, watching the gentle breeze tousle her shiny hair. He didn't know many poetic proses, but he knew she was something divine.


End file.
